


Acceptable Substitute: Outtakes

by mataglap



Series: Acceptable Substitute [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-30 18:35:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15102590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mataglap/pseuds/mataglap
Summary: Scenes that didn't make it to Acceptable Substitute for one reason or another, or were requested by readers afterwards.





	Acceptable Substitute: Outtakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of the prompts I got on [tumblr](https://mataglap.tumblr.com/) a while ago asked for Jesse's POV at the end of [chapter 7 of Acceptable Substitute ("Reciprocation")](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13280652/chapters/30693096). I had this scene sitting in my head for a long while, and I couldn't include it in the original since it was exclusively from Hanzo's POV _and_ very spoilery — so here it is, instead.

McCree wakes up and freezes, because the bed he's in suddenly moves — and then he remembers whose bed it is, and that's an even stronger reason to keep still and listen to his suddenly hammering heart.

He hears soft steps, bare feet on the thin carpet, and then the sound of the bathroom door, carefully and quietly closed.

Well, shit. Falling asleep next to Hanzo was not the plan. Although, to be fair, there was no plan; all plans went right out of the window the moment Hanzo stood in front of him and offered him the ultimate devil's deal.

Everything he wanted, except for one, small, crucial detail.

This would be a good moment to escape. McCree's got a lifetime of training in getting dressed fast, all he needs is thirty seconds — okay, maybe more in this case, since this time he's got no idea where his clothes might be, and they're probably mixed with Hanzo's, too, somewhere on the floor, in a room he's never seen before.

Still. A minute and he'll be gone. But if Hanzo only went for a piss, then he'll be back shortly, and there's a risk he'll catch McCree slinking off like a scolded dog. That would make for an unnecessarily shitty ending to an otherwise great evening that McCree will definitely remember for the rest of his life.

On the other hand, if he keeps still and pretends he's asleep, Hanzo's most likely not going to wake him just to kick him out. Hanzo can be cruel, but he's not _that_ cruel, and it was kinda his fault anyway that McCree fell asleep in his bed in the first place; there was no way he could politely disentangle himself from that sleepy, heavy and _very_ firm embrace, even if he wanted to, sex-stupid and exhausted as he was.

Hanzo fell asleep on his chest just fine, so he should have no issue doing so in his presence again, and then McCree can quietly slip away. And maybe let himself watch Hanzo sleep for just a moment before that.

Just a moment, he tells himself, and he knows he's pushing it, but, well, he's never been good at quitting while he's ahead — and it's too late now, anyway, because there's a distant sound of a toilet flushing and a running tap, and all that's left is to control his breath and make sure his body is relaxed, face slack with sleep.

Hanzo walks so quietly that even in the silence McCree can barely hear him. It's all he can do not to tense up and keep his breath deep and even when the footsteps stop, but the bed doesn't dip under new weight.

Shit. Getting caught pretending and then politely asked to leave, now that's the _real_ shitty way to end this —

Hanzo exhales quietly and sits on the bed, and McCree reminds himself to relax again a second before Hanzo scoots closer and rests his head on McCree's shoulder.

Huh. Apparently cuddles are still on the menu, even though the sex high is a thing of the past.

And then Hanzo snuggles close, real damn close, pushes his leg between McCree's and nestles his head against his bicep, and pulls the blanket up to cover them both, and wraps an arm snugly around McCree's torso — and to top it all off, he makes this little snuffling, satisfied noise before he stops moving for good.

McCree would have never, ever pegged Hanzo as a cuddler, and yet he's got an armful of a warm naked ninja, and that goddamn _cute_ noise in particular does him in. He can't _not_ wrap an arm around Hanzo's shoulders and pull him closer. He can't. There's suddenly something desperate lodged tightly in his throat, and he knows that if he opens his mouth he's going to say something real dumb, so he keeps his teeth clenched and listens to Hanzo's breath slowing down, feels his body relax into sleep.

It's almost enough to make him believe. He could close his eyes and let himself drift off like this, warm and comfortable, with Hanzo's cheek pressed against his pectoral and the mint-and-pine smell of Hanzo's hair in his nose, and the echoes of pleasure still deep in his bones.

And then, of course, disarmed by the weight across his chest and the slow, even breaths on his skin, he can't help but wonder what Hanzo looks like when he wakes up. Is he one of those disciplined types that jump out of the bed the moment the alarm clock goes off? Does he even need an alarm? Or maybe, since he's already pretty much thrown away his entire life prior to joining Overwatch, he sleeps late, and yawns and stretches indulgently after waking up, like a cat?

If this was what it's not, would Hanzo smile after opening his eyes? Could he be one of those who go for the morning kiss regardless of bad breath? Probably not. He'd probably wrinkle his nose and demand that McCree brush his teeth. Maybe he'd soften the blow with that little chuckle of his, the one he sometimes uses around Mei, one that says _I'm quite fond of you, even though I'd never say it out loud_.

It fucking hurts, and yet he can't stop thinking about it, like his entire willpower and considerable supply of stubbornness got sapped away by the mystical power of Hanzo's ninja cuddle.

He keeps his eyes open, trained on an unfamiliar ceiling, and forces himself to remember how the first thing Hanzo did after the blowie was to put distance between them again, reestablish the blurred boundaries, and that, at least, is enough to push his imagination off the fluffy cloud of self-gratification and somewhere closer to reality. Hanzo wouldn't fucking smile in the morning. There would be no kisses or cutesy conversations. He'd get up and disappear in the shower, probably making some extra noise in hope that McCree wakes up, takes the hint and spares him the discomfort. And if McCree didn't wake up in time, maybe he'd just leave the room.

Or, since no one could ever accuse Hanzo of being excessively polite or not assertive enough, he'd just nudge McCree to wake him up and coolly point out the hour.

He sighs, too loud, and stiffens immediately after — but Hanzo's still asleep, fully relaxed and heavy against his side.

Well. No time like the present to make his escape, then.

He makes the first move look like he's shifting in his sleep, just in case it wakes Hanzo up, but it doesn't. It takes a good five minutes of small adjustments until he works his arm free, and then it's just a matter of slowly inching away, not too fast, so that the loss of warmth is gradual and not jarring. Eventually he quietly rolls off the bed, crouches and locates his clothes, and spends another couple of minutes putting them on, careful not to cause unnecessary noise.

He can't stop himself from looking back at the bed when he's mostly dressed, boots and belt in his hands. There's a good chance the sex might happen again — now that he knows Hanzo wants it, there's no way he can say no, he's not strong enough for it, even though he knows it's the worst thing he can do — but this, he thinks, might be the only chance he gets to see Hanzo asleep like this.

So he looks, and stops, and turns fully, and watches in silent surprise.

The tight line of Hanzo's mouth is much softer, jaw for once unclenched, forehead smoothed out. The eternal frown is just… gone. Only now McCree understands just how tense Hanzo is on everyday basis; he doesn't really look younger like this, not exactly, but more like a twin from another universe, a place where there was no brainwashing and bloodshed and self-inflicted punishment, nothing to leave him with that perpetual bitchface that McCree didn't even realize wasn't an integral part of Hanzo's face, until now.

Suddenly, he feels like he's trespassing. This is not meant for him to see; he's overstayed his welcome.

He swallows and turns away, tiptoes towards the door.

He's just had the best evening in years and the best sex in years, hands down — and yet, as he quietly closes the door behind him, he feels like he lost something precious that was never even his to begin with.

**Author's Note:**

> Visit me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/matawrites) if you ever want to say hi or send a prompt!


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